Red
by Lauralithia2
Summary: Ex-FBI Agent Raymond Reddington has found yet another case for his favorite agent, Elizabeth Keen. But what appears to be a simple forgery case soon develops into something more when a mother and her two children are thrown into the mix. Elizabeth and Red must work together to solve yet another case-and to save the small family now in their care.
1. Raymond Reddington Makes A House Call

A/N: This is set up sort of like an episode of the blacklist; so it wont be terribly long, I don't think. Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the characters I've made up and added to the original storyline of the (fantastic) drama series, "The Blacklist".

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Red

Chapter One: Raymond Reddington makes a house call

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The asphalt crunched beneath the dark vehicle, as it pulled to a stop before a small home.

"We're here, Raymond."

The african american man's deep voice was carried easily into the back of the car as he looked into the review mirror. The other man reflected there looked up from his copy of the New York Times. His blue eyes glanced briefly back at the driver in the mirror, then turned to look out the window.

"Aw! So we are. Excellent. Come, Dembe. I believe we're just in time for a divine plate of cinnamon pancakes." Raymond Reddington smiled widely at Dembe, and neatly folded away his newspaper.

The home itself was rather run down, but the owner seemed to be attempting to keep it nice by planting white rose bushes and lavender in front of it's unfortunate windows. It helped, but the sense of neglect was still quite strong. The grass was browning in the autumn air, and it folded beneath the shoes of the two gentlemen that approached the house.

Red pressed his sunglasses a little further up his nose, and with his black fedora, black suit and black overcoat, he was the very image of expensive classical elements made practical. Dembe behind him was dressed simpler, but with the same expensive taste. He studied the neighborhood with a sharp eye as Red knocked on the door. The neighborhood studied them back through closed curtains and wide eyes. Nothing interesting-and no one interesting ever came through here-so who were these two strangers, and what business could they possibly have here?

The front door creaked open a moment later to reveal a thin, lovely woman around twenty-six. She was having some trouble with the door, however, because at one moment part of her face was visible before it vanished again and there was a dull 'thunk!' sound. The door closed almost entirely with a loud, "Sorry, hang on!" and a few, disgruntled, choice words later.

Red chuckled, "Should I come back at another time?" He called.

It went silent on the other side of the door briefly, and then there was a hurried shuffling and the door at last opened the entire way to reveal her grinning face, and the large black boot brace covering her right leg from the knee down. " _Raymond!_ " She half limped, half stumbled forward and they embraced. "Oh! I haven't seen you in _ages!_ " He chuckled. "How are you, Amelia?" She returned the hug, and as he released her she winced when she took a step back. He looked down at her feet as she spoke, "I know, it's been a while. I got married, and had a few kids."

"And a few injuries, it appears." He said concernedly. "Are you alright?" Raymond helped steady her when she teetered precariously. Amelia smiled but it seemed a little forced, and she waved her hand dismissively. "It's fine, I fell off of a ladder-it was stupid, really."

She looked away before Red's shrewd eyes could discern more; and before he was able to press the issue, the woman gestured inside. "Would you like some breakfast? I'm just mixing a batch of cinnamon pancakes now. Some sausage and eggs are sitting on the stove, too."

Raymond's blue eyes pierced her own-for less than a half-second longer-and then he smiled, "Thank you, that would be delightful." They all stepped inside, and Dembe closed the door behind them.

Amelia's house on the inside was clean but a little disorganized-the disorganization mainly consisting of the children's toys-which were strewn about rather haphazardly. Amelia made a small, embarrassed laugh, as she hobbled along and used her boot to move a few toys aside. "Mind your step-it's a bit of a mine field in here." They entered the kitchen, and Amelia set them both a place there at the worn table.

Through the course of the meal, Amelia explained to Raymond her life over the past six years. Her marriage, and how her husband Marcus was gone almost all of the time on long business trips. She told him about her children, Julia who had just turned three, and Max who was five. Both children liked Red very much, and were a little shy towards the quiet Dembe at first. They soon warmed up to him, however, when Red told them stories about the mysterious man, and Dembe would add something in his deep voice here and there that would make them giggle. Once the children had finished eating, they bundled up and ran outside to play. Amelia was flipping the last of the pancakes onto a plate while Red and Dembe finished.

"That was delicious, Amelia! Wasn't it, Dembe? We appreciate it, _immensely_." Dembe nodded, and Reddington wiped his mouth with the cheap paper napkin from the table, making it look for all the world as though he had just finished a meal in a little cafe in Paris. The ex-FBI agent could make the most boring thing interesting if he wanted to.

His hat, sunglasses, outer coat, and suit coat had been removed and placed on an obliging chair beside him, making even the old wood chair look classy.

At last he slid his plate away. "Now, on to business. I have a job for you, my dear, if you have the time." He leaned back in his chair leisurely, and sipped his orange juice. Amelia looked from Red to Dembe, who sat near the back door, keeping watch on both her children and the perimeter as he ate his own breakfast, balancing his plate on his knees. She bit her lip lightly and returned her gaze to Red's friendly eyes. They'd always been on good terms, and she hadn't any plans to jeopardize that. Her only worry was her husband, Marcus.

He was abusive; and if his job didn't take him out of the country for days on end, she would most certainly be dead by now. Amelia paled and cast another worried look out the window at Julia and Max. They were playing on the swing set, oblivious to her concerns-and she would keep it that way, for as long as possible. Marcus was coming home later that night from his latest over seas business trip, and he'd be extra cranky from the jet lag. It didn't bode well for her. The woman's lips pressed together in a frightened line.

"Amelia."

Red's voice was concerned but firm-was he pressed for time? She started and leaned away from the window. "Right, sorry. What do you need me to do?" He set the glass down seriously, his blue eyes calculating as he stared at her. "Is something going on between you and Marcus that I should be aware of?"

Amelia became still, then shifted slowly, self-consciously, from foot to brace-booted foot. Dembe turned his head to look as well, and they both watched her closely. The brunette felt her heartbeat quicken fearfully and her face flush as she flashed her teeth in what was hoped to be a reassuring smile. But there was a sliver of fear in it, and she avoided Red's frowning eyes by turning to the kitchen sink and putting dishes inside. "No. Why do you ask?" Her voice sounded so unconvincing, that even she cringed at it.

The heavy silence that followed was broken by the sound of Red's chair sliding back, and then heavy footsteps. "Because you seem distressed. Did he do that to you?" Red's voice was suddenly much closer, and despite knowing he was approaching, Amelia nearly dropped the frying pan she was washing into the sink with a clatter. She clenched her jaw, angry with herself. If Marcus found out someone knew, it would be bad. She peeked over her shoulder at Raymond where he stood at the counter a few feet from her with his arms folded across his chest. His expression was carefully cool in a dangerous way that usually promised future violence for whomever he was displeased with-in this case Marcus.

Amelia swallowed and turned firmly back to the frying pan, scrubbing it furiously with a sponge. "Amelia." He pressed, "If you let him go unchecked, it could be your children who get hurt next. Is that what you want?" He spoke it quietly and fervently, and the woman's hand convulsed around the sponge, the blood draining from her face. Horror and a sick feeling filled her stomach at his words, and her voice was fierce as she replied. "No."

"Then talk to me." He implored. She hesitated, then put both the sponge and pan down slowly in the sink, wiped her hands on her apron, and at last turned to Red. She struggled for the right words, and crossed her arms over her chest, until at last she found them. "It was Marcus. Almost every injury I've had since our marriage began, has been by him, or was caused by him." Hesitantly, she lifted her left sleeve to expose her pale arm. A long white crescent shaped scar near her elbow stuck out, and she swallowed. "I dropped a glass pan that was his mother's. He said because I broke something precious to him, he'd break me." Red's expression had grown deadly quickly, and he leaned away from the counter to inspect her scar. "He broke my arm. The children were at my parent's when it happened."

"And you've never considered leaving the man?" He asked, but it was more of an affirmation then an actual question, and Amelia frowned. "I've tried; but he always seems to know when I'm going to leave, and then he makes plans for our family that day. It's to the point where I can't leave with the children without it being obvious." Red smiled slightly. "Then you need a distraction."

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"Who is she?" Agent Elizabeth Keen of the FBI held aloft a close up shot of a woman called Amelia Barton to study it.

From across the room, Red tilted his head to the side to examine the painting before him. "A friend-in desperate need of relocating." Elizabeth shot him a look, "And you're expecting me to provide your criminal friend with a new life?" Elizabeth put the photo down hard onto a box-covered pallet in front of her, and the sound echoed in the warehouse, turned storage space. "I don't think so."

Red spoke to himself and straightened up. "The reds in this painting are really very exquisite." Elizabeth, becoming impatient, glared, " _Look_ , I didn't have to come here. There are plenty of other cases that I've got piling up. So unless you're about to explain to me what it is exactly that you want from me, I'll be leaving."

Elizabeth turned to the exit, when Red's voice carried over to her. "Amelia Barton." Lizzy came to a stop, and slowly moved around again to face him. "Who?" Red stepped away from the painting and turned to the FBI agent. "Amelia Barton-formerly known as Amelia Porter-she used to work for the Museum of Modern Art in New York as an appraiser. She could spot a fake painting a mile away. Her career was looking up, before she married that scum masquerading as her husband." Elizabeth's eyebrows rose. "Is that why you want me to relocate her? Because her husband's a jerk?"

"No, Lizzy," Began Red, suddenly quite serious. "Because he's abusing her." Keen's brow furrowed and she approached the palette again. "He's already broken one of her arms and just recently a leg, and Lord knows what else he's done to her. She has two young children who thankfully know nothing of the abuse." Red met her at the palette, his eyes dark. "I promise you this, Lizzy. Unless you look into her protection, I'll have no choice but to take matters into my own hands-and the only place you'll be finding Marcus Barton, is on a flyer for missing persons." A long silence stretched between them. Then at last Elizabeth pursed her lips.

"Fine."

Red smiled but it failed to reach his eyes. "Excellent! I expect to see Amelia and her children soon. Call me once you've secured them a home. I would like to speak with her-and I imagine you will too."

"Why would I want to speak with her?" Elizabeth queried irritably.

Red's eyebrows rose a fraction and he gestured behind him at the painting. "Because that painting behind me that half the art world is raving about? Is a fake." The woman looked at the canvas with new found interest. "If you want my help in discovering the forger, then you'd better bring her in as well." Red finished.

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A/N: Well there's chapter one, I hope you enjoyed it! Review and let me know what you thought of it. More to come soon.

Disclaimer: The only things I own are my characters.


	2. The Painting

A/N: Excited for this chapter—I love Red's teasing.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Seriously. Stop asking. ;)

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Red

Chapter Two: The Painting

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The next day found Red pulling up to a fairly large farmhouse in the country. Elizabeth stood waiting outside the door, hands in her coat pockets as she talked to FBI Agent Donald Ressler-her coworker and partner at the bureau. As soon as Red got out of the car, she glared at him, folding her arms. "You're late."

"Always in a hurry, this one." Reddington said to Ressler with a smile, who merely raised an eyebrow at the man. Red pressed on, "In any case, I was picking up gifts for Amelia's children-I'm sure they're just dying of boredom in this dreary place." He drawled, casting his eyes over the building, before he and Dembe-who was carrying a small pile of elegantly wrapped presents-slipped past the two federal agents. Ressler and Keen exchanged glances and followed after him.

The inside of the farmhouse was nice and warm, but decorated in depressing grays. "My God, it's like a prison in here!" Red exclaimed. Ressler came up beside him, retorting angrily, "You said a new home, so here it is. If you have a better place in mind, then by all means let us know." Red looked at Liz as though Ressler had not spoken, "I expected better from you, Lizzy. No matter. So long as they're safe and comfortable, then I suppose it'll have to do." He swept down the hall, ignoring her indignant expression.

Amelia Porter was sitting in the kitchen on a bar stool, her head propped up on her hand. Her back was to Red, and she appeared to be looking out the window at the FBI agents milling about her yard, checking the perimeter. When the group came into the kitchen, she looked up and smiled slightly at Red, then winced. Her lip was split and an eye swollen; she looked like she'd been knocked about.

Red's expression fell dangerously. "Her husband came home an hour earlier than expected." Lizzy explained, coming to stand by Amelia. The mother nodded stiffly and continued, "He walked in on me packing my things. I tried to come up with some excuse, but he's not stupid." Ressler stepped further into the kitchen and stopped by the refrigerator, turning to the others. "Her husband was beating her when we arrived and when he saw us, he made a break for it. He slipped into the backyard with his side arm and opened fire on us from the fence. We brought Mrs. Barton and her children here immediately."

Liz continued where Ressler left off, "We've got a bolo out on him, and the house is now under surveillance, in case he decides to come back." Red went to Amelia to have a closer look at her lip. "He wont come back." He said simply to the agents, then spoke to Amelia. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" She hesitated; pressing the cold compress an agent had given her against her lip.

"No. He yelled at me a while before actually hitting me." Red nodded briefly. "I know they don't look like much," Reddington began, pointedly glancing at Ressler. "But you're in good hands, Amelia." The woman's face relaxed in relief. "Thank you, Raymond." She replied quietly, and Red smiled widely in return. "Now," He said, turning to the gift laden Dembe, "I have some gifts for you and your children."

The children loved the presents, showing their mother delightedly. Amelia was smiling at them from the couch in the living room. Once the presents were opened, and the children sat by the fire playing; Amelia was taken off to the side to talk to Elizabeth and Ressler. "We need your help with something-" Liz was saying.

"I'm sorry," Amelia interrupted her, "but I don't know where Marcus would go. He's traveled so often, to so many places, that he could be anywhere." Elizabeth shook her head. "We're looking into everywhere he's gone-but that's not what we want to talk to you about." The mother's brow furrowed and she looked over at her playing children before turning back to the two FBI agents with a frown. "Then what do you want?" Elizabeth and Ressler were a little surprised at her directness, but Ressler gestured to a stairway leading up to the bedrooms. "We have something we need you to look at-a painting." He added, when Amelia appeared unsure.

"It's been going around museums and we have reason to believe that it's a fake." Liz explained. Amelia raised an eyebrow questioningly, "So if you know that it's a fake, what do you need me for?" Ressler shifted on his feet, "Because for whatever reason, the Chinese triad wants it. We believe that there's a code of some sort hidden inside the image, and we need your help in discovering what it is-" Amelia raised a hand in a halting gesture. "No. I don't want any part in this." Ressler and Keen stared at her, a little thrown off guard, and Ressler started to protest in frustration when Amelia spoke over him. "This could put my children at risk, and we've had _quite_ enough of that, thank you. I don't want anything to do with this criminal code painting or whatever it is. You'll have to find someone else." She stated firmly.

"What are you two hassling my dear Amelia about?" Red's voice sounded from behind Amelia, and he stopped beside her.

Ressler impatiently explained to Red, "She's withholding information, and refusing to help us."

Raymond looked to Amelia as though to reprimand her, and shaking his head, he said, "I am so sorry, Amelia. FBI agents have absolutely no manners these days." Agent Keen's jaw dropped and Ressler glowered furiously at Raymond, who went on. "That said, I'm afraid that job I had for you, and the task they're describing, are one and the same." Amelia's eyebrows came together in confusion. "Wait-so, you're-?" He nodded. "Assisting the FBI, yes."

Her expression eased. "Oh. Well, if it'll help you, Raymond, then I'll do it." She turned to the agents. "Where's the painting?" A stunned Elizabeth stared at the two, while a similarly expressioned-and more than somewhat disgruntled-Ressler led the way, Amelia following after him. Elizabeth stopped Red before he could ascend the stairs. "How do you know this woman?" She demanded in a hushed voice. Raymond studied her expression shrewdly, "Why Lizzy, is that a note of jealousy I detect?" Elizabeth scowled at him, "I just want to know if I can trust her. How do you know her?"

Red smiled thinly, "I met her at a museum once." Elizabeth raised an eyebrow skeptically, and Red continued. "I happened upon an argument she was having with her professor. Amelia was certain a particular painting there was a fake, and when her professor disagreed with her, she threw her drink at it." Liz's eyes widened, and Red grinned. "It gets better. Before things could escalate further, someone noticed the paint beginning to dissolve off the canvas, leaving behind a poster of a glaringly yellow smiley face. I intervened before the police arrived."

Red went on, "I acquired a job for her with that same museum as an appraiser and a sort of forgery expert." Red turned towards the stairs. "What, so she proves one painting's a fake, and suddenly she's an expert?" Reddington stopped to face her, his expression impatient and reproving. "She's an expert, Lizzy, because she's studied art since she was a child, and knows every artist so well, she could tell you if they were right handed or left handed, and which paintbrushes they preferred, just from glancing at their work. She's a prodigy, and the only person who can crack this puzzle of yours. She also happens to be the sweetest woman I've ever had the luck of knowing, so show some respect and don't treat her like some common criminal." He snapped, and Elizabeth went silent in shock.

He took a breath and sighed, and his expression cleared into a weary smile, saying simply, "You need her." Red gestured up the stairs with his hat. "Now may we go? I'd like to see her in action." Elizabeth nodded mutely, and with that said, Raymond Reddington went up the stairs with a chastised Elizabeth a few steps behind him.

Amelia was standing with her back to Red and Liz when they came into the first second story bedroom. Ressler was standing a few feet away from Amelia, watching her study the painting. He looked up when the two entered, and excused himself from Amelia to come stand in front of Elizabeth. Reddington swept around Ressler to be beside Amelia, and Liz followed him with her eyes while her partner spoke to her. "We have plenty of tools for her to use. I don't even know what most of them are meant to be used for."

Red ignored the others to speak to Amelia, "So. What do you think, my dear?" The art expert carefully lifted the frame and moved it to a table that'd been brought into the room. The whole room had been transfigured into a sort of lab. Tables and tools were everywhere, and plastic covered all of the unnecessary furniture-which were then slid into a corner of the room, out of the way. Amelia laid it down beneath a light and answered Reddington's question. "Well, it's definitely a fake. The brushstrokes are too short and the paint colors are wrong for Monet's period, as well as his preference." She frowned and tilted the painting at different angles beneath the light.

"There's something here..." She set the painting down flat and stepped away from the table. Amelia gathered a black light and exact-o knife and at last a stool before returning to the table. Sitting down, the woman switched on the black light and bent close to the painting while she swept the light slowly over it. Several tiny squares showed very faintly, and using the exact-o knife, she peeled them away to reveal tiny Chinese symbols. Red stepped closer in interest. "Well, now _that's_ interesting." Elizabeth and Ressler came up to see, and Liz asked, "What is it?" Red explained while Amelia continued to reveal and pull away squares.

"It's an old Chinese code. They've cleverly hidden it behind the painting." Ressler started for the door, "I'll find someone who can translate it for us." Reddington spoke loudly before he could leave, "Don't bother." Ressler stopped and Elizabeth stared. "Can you read it?" She asked, and Red laughed, "Lord, no! But I have a friend who can; Dembe, my phone if you please." From out in the hallway, Dembe retrieved the device from an inner pocket of his jacket and brought it to Red. The ex-FBI agent gestured at the painting, "Take a picture, and send it to Maurice. Let him know it's urgent." Dembe moved around to Amelia's other side, waiting for her go ahead. Amelia cut away the last square, then nodded at Dembe. "I think that's all of them." Holding the phone above the painting, Dembe took a photo and then sent it off. "It's done, Raymond." He said, and Red hummed. "Good."

Elizabeth stepped closer to Red, "How long will it take?"

"Not long. Maurice is an old friend. He's filthy rich, an insomniac, and an occasional alcoholic, if the mood strikes him; but no one comes close to deciphering codes as well as he can. That, and he knows about every code there has ever been. He's rich and bored," He added at the end when he saw Elizabeth's skeptical expression. "He doesn't have much else to do, which means he lives to solve a good puzzle." Red's phone beeped, and Dembe said, "Raymond." Red went to Dembe who handed him the phone. "Ah! You see, Lizzy? A little faith can get you anywhere." He turned to her. "They have a shipment of drugs coming in tomorrow morning. Based on the coordinates, you're looking for a major dock in California." He handed Dembe back the phone, and the tall man then replaced it in his jacket and slipped back out into the hallway after Red thanked him. "They'll likely have a white dragon painted on the side of their crate. You'll want to leave now to catch them in time. By plane would be best."

Ressler looked to Elizabeth, "I'll make the arrangements." Then slipped out of the room, pulling out his phone while calling orders to someone downstairs. "Thank you Mrs. Barton-." Elizabeth began when Amelia interrupted, looking down at the ground tiredly. "I'd prefer Ms. Porter from now on, if that's alright with you." FBI Agent Keen gave her an apologetic look. "Of course. Thank you for your help, Ms. Porter," Amelia nodded, and with a brief look at Reddington, Elizabeth slipped out of the room to find Ressler.

Red and Amelia sat in silence, and then a quiet sob broke through Amelia's facade. She covered her mouth with her hands, and rested her elbows on the table. Raymond frowned in concern as he placed an arm around Amelia's shoulders. She turned to Red, who opened his arms to her when she stood with another gasping sob. Amelia wept into his shirt, and Raymond wrapped his arms around her, swaying side to side and shushing her softly, gently patting her back as she cried. He placed a kiss on the top of her head, and shushing her, Red rested his cheek against her head. Just outside the room, Dembe's tall figure stood watch over the two from the hall outside.

Raymond was quiet while she cried, and once she'd calmed down, she pulled away and he sat her down again on the stool. "I'm sorry, Raymond..." She sniffed and he produced a handkerchief for her. She took it with a murmured thank you and wiped her eyes. Red had been like a father to her—she herself had not known her own father, whom had died shortly after she was born. After they met and got to know each other, Red became like a father to her. "You needn't apologize, Amelia. You've had a rough life as of late, and none of that is your fault." Amelia's lip twisted in a self-depreciating grimace. "No, it _is_ my fault. If I hadn't married Marcus-" Red shook his head firmly. "If you hadn't married Marcus, you wouldn't have those two adorable children currently playing downstairs." He went on when Amelia looked up at him, "I wont judge you for that, and neither will they. You've been a good mother to them, and they need you now, more than ever."

Amelia smiled and dabbed at her eyes again. "Now," Red said, becoming cheerful once more. "Let's go back downstairs. Now this is over, you and your little ones can rest." Amelia's face and posture eased and she took a deep breath, nodding. They descended the stairs and Amelia smiled thankfully at Raymond and Dembe just before they left. "Thank you so much for saving us, Raymond. I can't even begin to express my gratitude for your kindness." Raymond smiled widely and shook his head. "My dear Amelia, it was my pleasure. And if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to get in touch with me again." Raymond then gave her the number to reach him at, and she put into her phone, labeling it as "R.R." at his suggestion.

Julia and Max realized that Raymond and Dembe were leaving, and they hurried to their mother's side. "You're leaving?" Cried Max, and Julia's lower lip stuck out a little and began to tremble. Raymond smiled sadly down at the children. "I'll visit again soon, I promise." Julia looked at Dembe, "Dembe come too?" Julia's little eyebrows curved upward in concern and Raymond chuckled while Dembe smiled widely. "Of course, little one." Dembe's deep voice reassured her, and Julia grinned happily. "We must be off-good luck to you, Amelia." They embraced and Dembe went down on one knee when the children wished to give him a hug as well. Then Raymond and Dembe left the house, and Amelia put a hand on her stomach warily. She felt safer when he was around. She looked out the bay window as his car pulled away.

She didn't know it, but Raymond was looking back at her through the dark car's heavily tinted windows. Her expression showed she was still a little frightened, and he frowned. He'd have to look into a better home for them, himself. But for now he needed to catch up with Lizzie. "The phone please, Dembe." Dembe handed him the phone and Raymond pressed a speed dial number.

It rang twice and Elizabeth Keen answered. "What?" She sounded impatient and he chuckled. "I take it from your tone that you have yet to catch a plane?" He could practically see Elizabeth frowning on the other side. "Not yet. Cooper's trying to secure us a jet and then we'll be on our way." Raymond hummed thoughtfully. "One of my planes is on standby. I'll give you the address and you can borrow it." Elizabeth hesitated and Raymond too, grew impatient, "Lizzie, if you don't catch these men, there'll be a whole slew of consequences that you don't even know about. Do you want my plane, or not?" Elizabeth sighed, "What's the address?"

Raymond gave it to her and looked at his watch. "I'll tell them to get ready, but Lizzie you'd better hurry." He cautioned, and Agent Keen replied. "Thanks." Then the line went dead as she hung up. Red sighed, looking at the phone a moment. As he said he would, Red called the hangar where one of his planes was being held, to make the necessary arrangements. He just hoped they'd make it in time.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a review and let me know what you think! (Also _kindly_ point out any mistakes I may have made.) I hope you enjoyed it! :)

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.


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